


The Memories Obscured [Your Silent Tomb]

by rachanlv



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Silent Hillish mind-fuckery, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 21:59:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachanlv/pseuds/rachanlv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time Erik had seen Charles, his eyes were closed, never to open again. Charles Francis Xavier had died. But on March 16th, Erik had received a letter that had sent everything -every last hope of peace that he had desperately clung to- to the deepest pits of hell. A letter from Charles, beckoning him to come- come to Silent Hill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love Long Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Silent Hill AU. Yes. As a huge Silent Hill fan I had to do this. This fic is a blend of Silent Hill 1 and Silent Hill 2, so please enjoy~ 
> 
> Mind-fuckery ahead, ahoy! :D

 

He came to with a violent jolt that nearly sent him face down on the floor; he was clutching fiercefully at the foot of the bed as the result of such a wild awakening. He inwardly thanked it for being so small, even if he would have fallen; the most he would get was a bump. As the blood in his ears reduced its thumping, he could regain his breathing again and calmly get off the bed. That seemed like a nice idea just a few moments ago, but he did not move a single inch. Instead, he turned onto his side, now facing the empty space of his bed. He reached out, like he always did these days, his fingers brushing over the satin fabric. It felt smooth and gentle beneath his touch, but cold regardless, reminding him of how empty this bed felt without Charles being there –lazily stretching under the sheets, with his eyes of sky blue looking back at Erik with what seems to be endless affection.

 

The last time Erik had seen Charles, his eyes were closed, never to open again.

 

Charles Francis Xavier had died. His eyes once of sky blue –vibrant and so _alive_ \- were lost and dull. He held Erik’s hand and smiled the smile that Erik despised the most, the one that said, ‘I’m so sorry,’ as if he was to blame for taking that very last breath and leaving Erik behind.

 

He had nightmares ever since that day. The ones that left him hurting both physically and emotionally, the ones that had Charles alive at one moment and dying right at the next. With Charles asking him questions that tore his heart to pieces, that left him kneeling before his lover, tears burning down his face, clutching hopelessly at Charles’ thighs, and shouting on the top of his lungs, “Don’t go!”

 

Pathetic.

 

Every morning since that dreadful December night, Erik woke up feeling drained, weak, and most of all- pathetic. It’s been almost three months since Charles’ death, and his heart was not even set on letting go. He would never forget, of course, and he would kill himself the instant he would no longer be able to recall Charles’ face, his smile, his voice, but he cannot mourn forever- that he surely knew.

 

 

Some could say that Erik had gone soft, that he was nothing of the man that he once claimed to be –a leader of new species- a mutant powerful enough to wipe the humans off the face of the Earth. Exaggeration at its best, that statement. Even if he did pursue that goal, following the road of hatred, he would never be able to overcome the other mutant, which held the power of a much greater force –the power over his soul. After hearing that for the first time, Charles just rolled his eyes and laughed at such a sappy and over sentimental phrasing, wrapping his arms around his lover, and kissing him gently, lovingly on the lips, making Erik blush. It’s one of the many little secrets they both shared- Erik could actually blush and Charles was a man of action.

 

But whenever Erik recalls that memory, he has to remind himself that Charles _was_ the man of action, he’s not here anymore. He was constantly reminded of that, by the walls around him that were crushing him under their weight, but he never did move out of their apartment. The apartment that now was his alone.

 

On March 16th, Erik had received a letter that had sent everything -every last hope of peace that he had desperately clung to- to the deepest pits of hell.

 

**_It seems you were right, Erik. I am lost again. Would you come and take me home?_ **

 

The next moment he stormed out of the apartment, the door swinging open in a rushed, forceful motion, only to find a photo, laying on the doorstep –waiting for him. He could not believe his eyes; whoever was behind this trick was as good as dead. He may have gone ‘soft,’ but he would not hesitate to snap the neck of the person responsible for this; no one dared to use Charles and his name in such a heinous way.

 

He took a deep breath, another and another, and looked at the photo again. He still remembered the date it was taken –May 22nd\- and the picture showed Charles, smiling broadly and pointing at the huge wooden sign that said, “Welcome to Silent Hill.”Another look at Charles’ happy face and Erik felt as though he would shatter, so he flipped to the back of the photo to check the year it was taken –one of the things Charles insisted on doing. “When we’ll be old and bald, how do you expect us to recall when the pictures were taken?” he had said- and Erik froze. He could feel his fingers going numb –today- the same day he was struggling through without Charles by his side and here he was, smiling at him from the photo that was taken just _today_. This was way out of line; whoever got a hold of this photo and wrote down that date had just signed himself a death sentence.  

 

 

The persistent nudge of pain forced him to open up his eyes; which was a Herculean effort alone, and get up. The blood dripping from his eyebrow got into his right eye, obscuring his vision for the next few minutes, before he had a chance to rinse it off with water. Water?

 

Erik had stared at his reflection in the mirror for good five minutes or so, trying to recall something, _anything_ for that matter. His head was throbbing violently, memory a blur. He looked over his surroundings; what seemed to be a public restroom. He reached out for the paper towel machine, cursing his tough luck; he left the unkempt restroom behind, in the hope of finding something that would help stop the bleeding.

 

A few steps ahead was his car, smashed beyond any recognition, the door to the passenger side having fallen off. The telephone pole had not received that much of the visible damage; it was just tilted to the right. It’s a miracle that Erik managed to get away with just a split brow. He looked inside the car, in search of any sort of cloth to wipe and hopefully, stop the blood. As he reached for the glove compartment, everything came back to him. There was a photo of Charles and a letter, and now he knew where the hell he was, he was on the way to Silent Hill. Absurd as it may be no one but Charles and Erik had had that photo in their possession, so who else _but_ Charles could’ve signed it?

 

His mind raced with all possible and impossible thoughts of ‘what if Charles is alive?’ and the town of Silent Hill welcomed his search for his long lost love.

 


	2. Beckoning Chime

 

It’s unnerving –the way Erik was walking further away from his car and deeper into the fog, feeling completely at ease all of a sudden. His mind was a calm breeze, but his heart was pounding against his ribs, with a promise to escape the boundaries of his chest, while his body was completely on its own. Something beckoned him, or some _one_ , he was not sure- Silent Hill welcoming him.

 

One step, two and three- and he came to an abrupt stop with a pained growl, when something in his chest began to hurt- a sharp pain, as if needles were piercing his heart over and over, in short, ruthless thrusts. He had to slow his pace, and eventually stop –his breath coming out in ragged puffs- the pain was devastating.

He had abandoned his car, taking only the most valuable things from there- the letter and the photo of smiling Charles- smiling and happy and thrilled to be here, of all of the places on Earth, he was thrilled to be in Silent Hill. And Erik was thrilled for a whole different reason entirely, when he took that picture. After all, they came here with a great purpose- to find others like themselves- and one of them was supposed to be in Silent Hill. They never did find him, strange as it may be, but they did find something completely different and new. Something they had felt from the very beginning of their encounter in the cold ocean waters- and the heat from that moment became a hellish flame that set everything ablaze. It was a horrid downpour, their clothes became soaked in a few seconds, before they even reached their car and then everything revealed itself, the leather seats having turned into involuntary witnesses of moans and curious hands and demanding mouths. And Charles complained afterwards in a hotel room about little blue bruises here and there from bumping into various parts of the car, but the complaining came to a sudden stop- Erik shutting him up with a kiss and pushing him down on the bed. That night they had barely any sleep at all.

 

Erik cursed, the memory of their very first time was forever imprinted in his mind and soul and now, when he stood in the dense fog, bent almost in two from the unknown pain, he found it hard to even look at the car that stood a couple of feet away. He cursed again.

 

____________

 

He could not pinpoint the exact time when he was able to straighten up again, really. It seemed like an eternity to him and a hideous little thought of ‘ _am I going to die here?_ ’ crept its way into his head. Likely enough, the pain subsided -for a small amount, at least- and he could resume his search. _Search for what, exactly? Since when did you begin to cling so desperately to an illusion of Charles being here -alive and well?_ His mind was great at sowing doubts, and if he had a chance to punch something right now, it would surely be his brain. Not like it would help.

 

The fog was not set on lifting anytime soon it seemed, so Erik was not that much surprised when he did not spot a couple of buildings as he passed them. He did stop a few minutes later and checked his surroundings, to confirm that he was not seeing things. It’s a relief that he was not. Silent Hill sprawled before him and it didn’t change from his _–their-_ last visit, the same streets and small old buildings. A secluded, rural town that was filled with so many emotions and memories was now dreadfully quiet. And it’s uncharacteristically cold even for early spring; he can feel the goose bumps popping up on his skin. The lack of any sort of life on the streets had set an alarm off in his head, something was not right. Rural or not, there should be people on the streets or in the shops; he passed a few- all of them shut and some even boarded up. What happened to this place? Not to mention all that fog which made the city feel eerie.

 

All of his musings were instantly silenced by the sound of footsteps not far from where he was. He could have sworn he had heard footsteps. He increased his pace, going around the corner of the old barber shop, and stopped- an iron fence was in his way. Too high to climb and there was no use tearing it down with his powers, he hadn’t found any need in damaging anything yet. There was a little hole though, and as the footsteps did not subside, he decided to peek in. He could feel his heart going numb; he could not believe his eyes. In the fog there was a man, he needn’t any special sort of powers to make out the stature, or the posture- even his cardigan was the same as-

 

“Charles!” Erik heard himself screaming out to the man and before he could even understand what was going on, the fence was bending and twisting into something unrecognizable. It didn’t give in as fast as he hoped it would, the hinges were too sturdy. When what’s left of the fence fell, clearing a path, the man was way ahead, and barely, just barely visible in that thick fog. He did not remember the last time he had run so fast.

 

Running fast didn’t do much good, he lost the man. He was so angry at himself that he did not even notice that he stepped on something, realizing it only when a –crunch- sound came from under his foot. Whatever it was, it was now in pieces and from what Erik could tell it was something in a very small bag. Opening it revealed a little bottle, and Erik had gone pale- the little bottle with sand, the one Erik had given Charles, the sand from the Cuban beach. The very same beach where he had killed Shaw and had nearly murdered thousands of men, blinded by his hatred- but Charles had stopped him that day and he had stayed. They returned to that beach after some time, after all, they did have to retrieve their equipment –broken or not- and Charles did an outstanding job at making the military men, who were there, ignore their presence. And before leaving, as a token of unendless gratitude for what Charles did, how he managed to keep their return a secret and save the people, no- save _Erik_ \- this little bottle of sand was a memento of what they’d been through and what they’d become now- better men. Charles had smiled and Erik could’ve sworn that he had seen a little tear in the corners of those eyes.

 

The man in the fog –the Charles look-alike- he had to find him, _now_.

 

____________

 

Easier said than done; Erik had been wondering the streets for unknown amount of time, _literally_ unknown, his wristwatch had stopped at precisely 11:23, not to mention that he didn’t find any sort of clock on the streets, which was odd, but he did remember there was a huge clock near the police station. But the idea to go there was as good as no idea at all- he was lost anyway. They hadn’t spent that much time wondering the streets when they last were here; they were preoccupied with far more vital things.

 

He sighed, a soft little sound; he had to stop again- the pain was still there, nudging him, reminding him constantly of its presence, although it was not as persistent as it was before. Not to mention his split brow, the bleeding had stopped, but it was still there. All that became a far away thought the very moment the earth shook beneath his feet, a slight, but clearly felt tremor. And then another, a more powerful one that made Erik lose his balance for a moment. He didn’t have a chance to blink- the siren began its deafening howl, out of nowhere, making him sick and disoriented all at once. He had never heard anything like it, it was no ordinary siren, and the feeling, the anxious feeling that he felt bone-deep was not leaving, something was coming, something that he was not sure he would like to see and _–dear god-_

 

Panic was building, faster than anything, like water that breached the damp- everything was changing right before his eyes, it’s becoming dark, pitch-black darkness substituting the fog, and he can’t see a thing. _Nothing_. He hurriedly reached for his pockets, there had to be a matchbox there, it just had to be. His fingers searched fervently and he began to curse the too deep pockets and _there-_ the precious little box was within his reach. He took it out and tried to light a match as quickly as it was even possible for a human being, but failed- the match falling to ground- he let it fall when he heard a chime. A sublime sound, his mind illuminating his consciousness with the images of the wind chimes, delicate sound to his ears and Charles sitting on the window sill, all of his attention focused on the book in his hand, soft wind dancing in his hair; he looked up to meet Erik’s eyes, smiling –and the illusion fell.

 

He is back, face to face with nothing but darkness and he tried to light the match again, but stopped- his hands freezing their movement- a light. A weak, barely visible light that was shimmering up ahead through all of this blackness: a light of hope, of guidance? He doesn’t have much of a choice but to head towards that glow.

 

____________

 

It’s long, the road to the light was so long, and it felt like he was walking forever. It’s cold and dark; he doesn’t want to light the very last match he had, so he chose to go in blind. His legs were about to give away when he stumbled over something and fell flat on the ground, somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny little voice was thankful for the opportunity to have a stop, even if it meant getting it this way.

 

He had landed on something, something sticky- mud? He had to check, so he ran his hand over the ground, although he cannot see at the moment, nobody had robbed him of the ability to smell. He bolted to his feet in an instant; he would recognize that smell without any doubt, the reeking smell of blood. Last match or no, he had to see and prove himself wrong.

The weak light from the match illuminated the scene beneath his feet and he regretted lightening it in the first place. It was repulsive, his stomach clenching painfully at the sight. He’s not a doctor, not close, but he is more than sure that whatever the hell lay at his feet was dead and it’s good that it is- its neck twisted at the very wrong angle and the skin was _peeled off_ in several places and its knees seem to be twisted inward- and it’s swimming in its own blood. Whoever did this was a monster.

 

He had to look away, the gruesome mess in front of him was not helping subside the sickening feeling that was building up in his gut. The match went out, so as carefully as it was possible he stepped over it and continued his way towards the beckoning light. One step, two- he yelped –an involuntarily reaction- his foot being caught in something, trying to drag him back and the moan he heard behind him was nothing a human can produce. All of a sudden he can feel it _everywhere_ –entwining around his arms and legs and neck, along with a vile smell and sounds beyond any belief, he struggled with all his might, but alas, in vain. All he could see, before he’s consumed by the darkness, before his eyes fall shut, was Charles sitting in the window sill and smiling at him- he no longer heard the chime.


	3. Shadows in the Mist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry (I can't stress this enough!) It's been over a year since the last update, there's no good excuse for this. I just hope that you'll enjoy chapter 3 and others to come!

It’s cold. So **_cold_**. He wanted to curl up in some vain hope that it would make things better, that it would make everything go away, would erase him and his memories altogether. The freezing sensation was merciless, biting his skin, reaching all the way inside; he could almost feel his ribs turning into ice. He tried, but he couldn’t move – both legs and hands immobile and unresponsive – he couldn’t even force his eyes open and panic was slowly creeping its way inside his mind. But he refused to let it cloud his judgment. He had to remain composed while his brain worked out all of the possible options of his whereabouts and further action.

 

The movement.

 

However, it’s not Erik who was moving. It felt as if someone else was carrying him, someone who was marching in wide steps, as if he was being carried somewhere – it was never a good thing to begin with. Being unable to open his eyes did not help the situation he was in and when the mysterious carrier came to a stop, he heard a voice. A female voice far as Erik can tell, although as it turned out, something was mangling with his aural senses as well. All of what she was saying was muffled and Erik wondered what may be the cause of this. It was like he was underwater, even if he wasn’t. He would’ve drowned by now if he was, although it was getting a bit hard to breathe.

 

The voice came closer, making it easier for him to decipher the words. She seemed to be repeating the same thing: “Release him, or I’ll shoot!” and something between the lines of “I’m not joking,” and “release him, **_now_**!” And she wasn’t joking. Erik knew that now, as he could feel the metal of her gun resonating and the bullet swirling out of the barrel as she pulled the trigger. The bullet did reach the target; he could feel the metallic presence near his body—somewhere near his left ear—which was too close for comfort for Erik’s preferences, considering that he was in no position to deflect it in a worse case scenario.

 

All that became forgotten in an instant, as he heard the **_noise_** his carrier made, it was not human, by far. He abruptly fell to the ground, landing into some sort of puddle that reeked beyond words, and as that vile smell pierced his senses, he jolted up onto his feet, barely able to balance himself after being immobile for god knows how long. Moments later, he was able to open up his eyes, finally, and he instantly wished he hadn’t—what was in front of him was something he had never seen in his entire life, and he, of all people, did have a great experience; but he wasn’t prepared for this.

 

It’s was huge, massive even, lacking any recognizable shape or form to distinguish it between any living thing on this planet. Erik blinked, trying to focus as he heard another shot behind him, and as the bullet pierced the creature, its whole being reshaped, morphing into something entirely different. Apparently it didn’t have any bones, Erik thought. It was half-transparent, the threads that resembled veins were visible to the eye, but there were definitely no bones. As he blinked again, chasing the last remnants of blurriness away from his vision, he could see that inside this monstrosity was a hole, a hole big enough to fit a man, and as the realization of where he had been and why he could not move hit him, he could feel his insides flipping and twisting in a horrendous way- he was **_inside_** that thing.

 

Yet another shot hit the target, but now, it was accommodated by creature’s shrieking scream—a scream that would make glass shatter, that immediately forced Erik to close his ears out of instinct, otherwise he feared he would go deaf. He could feel the metal, echoing in his mind, pulsating in his heart as if in the warning, that it would hit ground soon, and it did just seconds later. As he turned around, the woman was lying motionless, supposedly unconscious, on the ground. It didn’t take long for him to recall this person; he knew her so well—

 

‘Raven!’ he screamed in an attempt to reach her, to make her come to, but before he could make a step towards her, in a blink of an eye, the hideous monstrosity rushed past him straight to her direction. Erik could only blink; he couldn’t imagine that an enormous, sluggish thing like that could have such velocity. And there she was, helpless, lying on the dirty pavement completely vulnerable, as the creature loomed over her; its being shifting and adjusting to the right angle for it to swallow her as it did him. Erik’s had no choice; he had to think on his feet, as he dashed forward, eyes fervently searching for anything that could pass as a weapon, anything that was metal, regardless of form. And in a moment, when he was so close to the creature that he could touch it with his bare hands, the metal sang. He could feel it in his blood, the resonance, the impulse—his power—the only thing he could depend on now. He raised his hand, going in practically blind, whatever would response to his call would be better than nothing.

 

And it was nothing that responded, nothing came to his aid, although he could clearly feel the metal around him—the gun being one of them. He did not have time to ask and wonder, the monster had switched its priorities, Erik being a far more interesting specimen to feed upon now.  

 

Of all the things Erik ever had to do, he was never in favor of this one, but his options were tied. He had to get that piece of ungodly creation out of here, to somewhere where it wouldn’t cause Raven anymore harm. So he ran, quickly, and not quite believing that he would get out of this alive.

 

_ _ _ _ _

 

The blood in his ears was pumping in a dreadful rhythm as he pushed himself to the limit, rushing around the corner and dashing over the fence; the said fence breaking loudly moments later as that being just smashed through it like it was paper. Running away was an insane thing to do in the first place.

 

One street followed the other; blurred lines of endless, fog-cloaked buildings stretched out around him and he feared that now might be the time when his body could take no more and he would collapse. He made another turn, running down the narrow alley that got smaller and smaller, in the hopes that his pursuer would just get stuck between the concrete walls. Throwing a quick glance behind his shoulder he saw that the amorphous thing squeezed through with little to no effort and the chase was not over yet.   

 

Erik made yet another turn and that was the last. Before him was a dead end with fifteen-something feet of tall brick wall and all sorts of useless trash scattered around beneath his feet. His brain registered a kerosene can, he grabbed it—still full—opened it and splashed the contents on the incoming enemy. But when he recalled that he had already used the last match he had in his possession, true terror settled in.

 

The monster was not distracted by his actions; in fact, it seemed to be even more furious than ever. An aggressive growl echoed throughout the alley and Erik was preparing for the worst, as the creature positioned itself to, most likely, attack. But when Erik thought that his life would come to an abrupt end, blazing flames devoured the monster whole; it withered, shrieked in agony as the fire was consuming it, and within the shortest time it fell to the ground, burned to the black char and turned into even more disgusting sight.

 

Breathless and stunned, Erik lifted his gaze only to meet Raven’s familiar face with fierce determination lining it all over. She was breathing hard, blood on her face and a lighter in her grip. She made a few shaky steps towards him and fell on her knees as suddenly as she had appeared to save him.

 

Erik rushed to her at once, ‘Raven, Raven! Look at me, c’mon, _look at me,’_ he whispered, framing her face with his hands. She was half-conscious, looking at him but not seeing him at the same time. Blood was coming out of her ears, staining her face and neck with red; the result of that creature’s screech, no doubt.    

 

‘Erik?’ she muttered quietly, her eyes slightly gaining their focus back.

 

‘It’s me, yes,’ he reassured her, and after a few silent moments, added, ‘You saved me.’

 

She smiled weakly, just s slight twitch in the corners of her lips, ‘I came all this way to find you,’ her eyes fell shut and she inhaled sharply, ‘And I couldn’t let you die, now could I?’ Another sharp breath and a vice-grip on Erik’s jacket, he could see that the pain she was in was excruciating. Just a quick glance over Raven’s body was enough to spot a blood stain on her left side; by the looks of it, she bled for quite a long time, blood was already soaking through her jacket.

 

‘Raven,’ he tilted her head slightly upwards, to look her in the eyes, ‘can you walk?’

 

She didn’t answer, just nodded. With that, he threw her arm over his shoulder and slowly, carefully helped her up, ‘C’mon, I’ll get you to the hospital.’

 

The chances of finding anyone who could be of any actual help at the hospital were close to none, Erik knew that. He also knew that there is a chance that all that was left of the former hospital was nothing but a boarded up, abandoned building; seeing what had happened to this town, he had his suspicions. But at least there will be medical supplies and means to treat Raven’s wound. Somewhere along the way, she had lost consciousness from exhaustion and blood loss; her face was so sickly white and almost lifeless. Erik just sped up; he couldn’t afford to lose another friend. He refused to.

 

Alchemilla Hospital seemed like a far-fetched dream to him now. All of the known ways to get there were cut off – the roads collapsed, with no possible way for him to go through to the other side. Sometimes Raven would regain consciousness for a short period of time and then, just as suddenly, drift away again.

 

When they ended up at the edge of another destroyed road, Raven came to, ‘The...e…ers…’

 

‘What?’ he leaned in, listening closely.

 

‘The sewers,’ it was obvious that speaking was a challenge for her, yet she went on, ‘Shouldn’t we be able to get to the hospital through the sewers?’ She made a pause to take a breath, ‘My right pocket…a map…’ With those words she lost consciousness again.

 

 _ _ _ _ _

 

The only way to get to hospital by the sewers was through the Rosewater Park and by the time they reached their location, night had already fallen. With nothing in his or her possessions to illuminate the surroundings, Erik knew that it was suicidal to go on with their plan in the dark. He wasn’t sure of what or who they would run into. It was pure luck that they managed to get so far without stumbling upon something like that hideous creature from before. What if there were more of them? What if there were far worse things than that?

 

He looked at Raven, checked her pulse and he didn’t like what he felt—very weak, just barely there. He knew that he had to go in blind, for the sake of getting her to the hospital. If she was awake now, she would have argued with him about the irrationality of his actions, told him to wait for dawn, even if it meant not making there in time, but at least one of them would make it out alive. Raven was so dear to Charles that eventually Erik warmed up to her too, so now it was his duty, his unspoken commitment to Charles that he will make sure that she lived. He wasn’t all that successful in keeping her safe, but that was a thing of the past.    

 

Erik was astounded to find out that their journey wouldn’t be covered in complete darkness of the eerie park. There were small lanterns with a dim, almost fading light in some places, all engraved in stone statues that were standing silently near the benches. It was a shame that there was no way to take one with them, though. But his attention diverted from the lights the instant he heard a sound that resembles small rocks hitting the water surface, just like skipping stones. He concentrated as much as he could, listening only to that noise; stones in water, no doubt about that. With his awareness to the limit, he adjusted the position he was carrying Raven in and followed the sound.

 

He had great experience in finding his way relying only on his hearing, so it did not take him long to reach the source. Before him was an opening, a clear view on the enormous lake and a distant, pale light of the lighthouse flickering through a thick fog. The next thing that came into the view was a silhouette standing a few feet ahead, seemingly human-shaped. As its hand lifted up just above its head for an aim, Erik was more than sure that it was a human being standing before him. He tried to approach this person slowly, but the traitorous branch beneath his foot gave away his intentions momentarily and the person turned around to face the intruder.

 

Erik’s body froze. His legs felt like they were full of lead and his throat suddenly closed, refusing words any chance to leave. With tremendous force, he managed to choke out ‘ _Charles_ —’ and it was painful to even say that name.


End file.
